United States of the Dead - 04

by Joseph Talluto

If you’re reading this, then I have the unfortunate duty to tell you that your mother is gone. She caught the virus trying to take care of one of her friends who got sick. She’s buried in the backyard she loved so much. Stop by her grave if you can.

  John, I have gone to help some friends and I don’t know if I will ever be back at the homestead. It was a good place to live and to raise you boys, but without your mother, it isn’t home anymore. If you want it, it’s yours. If not, give it to Mike.

  Son, I know we disagreed on a lot of things, but I want you to know that I was always proud of you. You and your brother made my life complete in ways I can’t express in words and the greatest joy in my life was bringing you both into the world.

  The honor I had at being a Marine cannot compare to the honor I have at being your father. I know you think I was disappointed because you chose not to serve in the Corps. That wasn’t true. I was disappointed for the Corps, since they lost the chance to be led by a good man like yourself. As much as you deny it, you’re a leader, John. I hope you have come to realize it as much as everyone else has.

  I pray you and Jake and Ellie are all right and someday you might find me at your door.

  Take care of your brother and remember I love you and am proud of you.

  Semper Fi,

  John Talon, Sr.

  PS. I left supplies for you in the basement.

  I read and re-read the note, trying my best to keep the tears from falling on the precious paper. I was sad my mother was gone, but at the same time relieved my father might still be alive. I suppose the best thing I could do would be to finish the mission and get back to my family, in the hopes that the old soldier would someday find his way to a place where someone could point him in the right direction.

  I went downstairs and out the back door, heading to the grave I had seen from the second floor. Duncan was in the back yard, looking over some flower beds and he started when he saw me.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, looking at the strain on my face.

  I waved him off and went over to the grave. It was a simple affair, just two boards making a small cross over a mound of dirt covered with flagstones. I got down on one knee and spoke to my dead mother.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Mom. I hope you can forgive me. I know dad is gone somewhere and maybe I’ll see him someday, but I have a job to do first. Jake is safe and so is Mike and his family, figured you would want to know that. Ellie died, but you and she are probably watching me make of fool of myself right now. I married again, her name is Sarah and she’s a good mother to Jake. You’d like her. I gotta go, Mom, but we’ll all be back someday, I promise.” I kissed my hand and touched the cross and for a brief second I thought I felt a touch on my cheek. I knew it was my imagination, but I like to think that maybe she heard me and let me know it was all right.

  I stood up and walked back to the house, trailed by Duncan, who understood enough to keep a respectful silence. The words of my father’s letter burned in my brain and I added them to what Sarah had told me recently, although it seemed like a long time ago.

  We re-entered the house and I led Duncan into the garage. Dad had mentioned the basement, although to be accurate, few houses in Western Virginia really had a basement. In the garage was a small door, about three feet high, hidden behind the workbench. It was a crawlspace that went under the house and my Dad had created a storage space in the crawlspace.

  I pulled away the door and stepped down into the small trench my father had dug years ago. It ran the length of the house and allowed my dad to stand upright under the house. He placed several small shelving units under there and it gave him a lot more usable space than just a crawl space. Duncan looked around and was impressed with the simplicity of creating a useful area where most people just left it alone.

  I followed the trench to the far end, passing the Christmas and Easter decorations. At the end I turned left and followed the trench to another end. At this point there was a small collection of bins and shelves. I opened three of the bins and looked inside. Satisfied, I handed the heavy bins to Duncan, who grunted under the weight. I opened a small safe sitting on the side and after looking in, pulled out two boxes. One was labeled “Mike” the other “John”. I placed the boxes on top of two more bins then followed Duncan out of the “basement”.

  We carried our burdens back to the RV, where we were joined by Nate and Tommy.

  Nate asked the obvious question. “Everything okay? I saw the grave out back.”

  I nodded. “My mother’s. She got sick. Dad might still be alive, but he’s left here for good.”

  “Sorry about your mom, John,” Tommy said softly.

  I looked up. “Thanks, Tommy. I feel better knowing for sure, but then I feel bad she’s gone. Does that make sense?”

  Tommy smiled. “Strangely enough, yes. What have you here?” he asked, changing the subject.

  I opened three of the bins and pulled out dozens of boxes of ammunition. There was .223 ammo, .308 ammo, 9mm and .45ACP ammo. The three other men widened their eyes at the sudden resupply. I opened the other bins and showed them a quantity of reloading supplies, including a small single stage press.

  Nate spoke first. “I like your dad more and more. He just have this stuff on hand?”

  “Dad believed in being prepared and being self-reliant. I guess some of his stuff actually rubbed of on me,” I said.

  “What’s in the labeled boxes?” Tommy asked.

  “Good question,” I said. “I’ve never seen those before.” I took the box with my name on it and opened it. Inside was a brand new Springfield Armory 1911. It was a stainless Loaded model, with night sights. The wood grips had been replaced with ivory ones and it was beautiful weapon. A holster accompanied the weapon and I whistled with appreciation.

  “Your dad knows his guns,” Nate said, picking up the .45 and checking the sights. “.45 round would pop a Z’s head like a melon.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I’m going to stick with my SIG for now. I like the option of killing 13 zombies before a reload as opposed to eight.”

  Nate put the gun back. “That is true. What about your brother’s?”

  I shook my head. “That’s his to open, as is this.” I took out the letter from our father and placed it on the box, putting both up in a storage bin. “Hopefully I’ll see him soon enough to give him both.”

  “Anything else we need here?” Nate asked.

  I shook my head. Although this was the place I grew up, it wouldn’t be home again for a long time. I just hoped that by the time all was said and done, it would still be here to come back to. Interestingly, I had no similar feelings about the place back in Illinois anymore, the home Ellie and I had shared. Maybe the uncertainty of life made thoughts of permanence a fantasy, something only fools thought to hope for.

  I stashed those thoughts away as we pulled out. I looked back and I could see the home recede in the mirror. I could see the small grave in the back and I wondered how it might have been for my Dad. Not having to face that situation myself, I had to give Dad credit for having to put down the woman he’d been in love with for over thirty years. I don’t know if I could have killed Ellie. I imagine a lot of people couldn’t, they just locked their loved ones away in the hopes a cure might be found, or someone would be able to help. Probably a lot of people became infected that way, trying to do something, anything, for a son or daughter who got sick and came back.

  We crossed a river on our way through Virginia and passed through what looked to be a state wilderness area or something. A small café was located on the side of the road and I asked Nate to pull over. We were supposedly in a town called Paris, but like a lot of towns, this one was just a small collection of homes situated near a highway.

  The café was the Ashby Inn and Restaurant and looked like a hundred other places we had passed. I stepped out of the RV, looked over the rest of the town, and was reminded once again about what we had lost. It was dead silent and barely anything
moved. I could see out of the corner of my eye the comings and goings of small animals as they went about their business.

  I didn’t see any zombie activity and it puzzled me for a minute. Since we crossed the Ohio River we had seen zombies everywhere, in fields and towns and everywhere in between. It was like this part of the country just gave up and joined the ranks of the dead willingly.

  But things were quiet around here and it was a bit of a mystery until a voice spoke from behind me.

  “Well, well. Looks like some gen-u-ine hard asses, that’s fer sure.”

  I spun around, whipping my rifle to my shoulder. Whatever I was expecting to see certainly wasn’t standing down the road from me. Down the barrel of my M1A I studied the speaker. He was a tall drink of water, probably six foot four or so, with lean muscular arms and legs. He was wearing a broad-brimmed hat which was pulled low onto his head, but even in the shadows his eyes were very bright. A thin cotton poncho covered his naked torso and a duffle bag of supplies lay at his feet. He wore a belt of sorts, about which hung flashlights, knives and what seemed to be a sharpener.

  As eccentric as he seemed, his weapon really caught my attention. It was a pole as tall as he was, with a spike on one end and a two foot blade on the other. A handle jutted out at a ninety-degree angle about halfway up the blade and the really impressive thing was another weapon, identical to the first, was strapped to his bare back. With both hands filled with those killers, I imagined he could do some serious damage.

  I lowered my rifle. “Name’s John Talon. I’m traveling through to D.C.. Who might you be?”

  The man stepped towards me and stopped as Tommy and Duncan came out of the RV and flanked me with their carbines at the ready.

  “I used to be called James Carson, but it’s been a while since anyone living called me that.” He walked up to me and ignored the nervous fidgeting of my companions as he leaned in close. He studied me for a minute before exclaiming “You don’t look crazy or stupid. Why in thunder would you want to go to D.C.? Fucking ghouls are all over the place over there.”

  I explained briefly what we were doing and why and at the end of my monologue, James was nodding his head.

  “I can see the why and your reasons make sense. I just don’t know how much of a chance you got, son.” Carson said.

  I shrugged. “If we want to become a country united again, we have to have our symbols on which we placed our faith. Otherwise, it’s survival of the fittest and it will be centuries before we stand up again as a nation. I don’t want do to that to my son.”

  At the mention of my son James’ face darkened and he turned serious. “Good luck to you and maybe I’ll see you again,” he said as he turned away.

  “Wait,” I said. “Maybe you want to join us? Once this job is done, we’ve got a country to reclaim. We could use a good man.”

  Carson stared at me over his shoulder. “What makes you think I’m any good?”

  I smiled. “You’re alone in zombie infested territory, armed with medieval weapons against countless Z’s. On a hunch, I’d say you’re good enough.”

  James frowned. “No sir, I’m not good enough. At least I wasn’t.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, curious as to why he wasn’t willing to join us.

  Carson looked off into the hills for a minute before replying. “My son was torn from my grasp by the ghouls. They ripped him to pieces before my eyes. I couldn’t save him.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You ain’t to blame.” Carson shouldered his weapon and turned away. After a couple of steps he turned back. “They killed him, now I spend my life killing them. Eventually they’ll get me, but I’ll take out as many as I can before that day comes. I owe him that much at least.”

  “Good luck.” I called to his retreating back. I regretted his leaving, but I understood why he was doing what he did. If I was in his shoes I’d want a reckoning as well.

  We climbed back aboard the RV and started to look for a place to spend the night. A town called Middleburg was ahead on the map and I called Nate’s attention to it.

  Nate looked at the sky as we moved along. “Looks like rain,” he said.

  I glanced at the darkening sky. He was right. Hopefully it would be an uneventful evening.

  Chapter 13

  Lightning arced across the black sky, illuminating clouds thick with rain. Water fell from the heavens and trees bent in the howling winds, bowing under the weight of the falling rain. Deep rumblings followed the lightning and the hard concussion of strikes shook the foundations of the little buildings caught in this summer tempest.

  The lightning exposed what walked at night, heedless of the rain and wind. In the brief flashes illuminating the landscape, the horror of the dark was revealed one slow step at a time. The dead were out in the storm and each strike of lightning showed them moving closer and closer.

  I looked out of the hardware store window and surveyed the scene before me. Dead bodies were scattered around the road and store, forming small dams as the rain tried to wash their stain away. They were the losers in a running fight I had to get to this place, managing to separate myself from my team and getting cut off by the remaining ghouls which waited for me outside.

  The lightning crashed again, revealing dark forms moving in my direction.

  A sound from the back room caught my attention and I briefly cocked an ear that way. It was a small cough, small enough to belong to a child. I turned my head and caught the eye of the woman sitting back there. She looked at me fearfully, but relaxed when I shook my head. With the rain, wind and thunder, it was unlikely that the Z’s would hear us. We couldn’t shout to each other, but small sounds would probably go unnoticed. I wondered if the girl was infected. We’d know soon enough either way.

  I found myself keeping a hand on my gun as I watched the zombies get closer. Not that the gun would be much help. I had used up my entire carbine and pistol ammo to get us to this place and all I had left was the mini pickaxe with a modified handle and my knife. If I was facing just one or two zombies, I wouldn’t be so worried. But the lightning showed me ten times that number and that was something not any sane man would run willingly to.

  Another sound from the back caused me to look again and this time I made eye contact with the man back there, husband to the woman. I shook my head again and he relaxed, although he continued to throw glances my way as if he expected me to attack him myself. I chuckled. In his shoes, I might have looked at me the same way too.

  In the gloom outside, I watched the zombies milling about in the rain. They couldn’t see, and they couldn’t hear very well with the rain. The lightning flashes caused them to jerk one way, while the thunder caused them to jerk another. Some of them stumbled over fallen comrades, to be washed away briefly before regaining their unsteady forms.

  But they steadily moved in this direction, one way or the other. As I watched them, an idea formed in the back of my head and the more I thought about it, the more it seemed plausible.

  I carefully walked to the back of the store and hunkered down with the family of four that was sitting there. We had found them hiding out in the second story of a bank, taking refuge there when their car broke down. They were waiting for the ghouls in the area to move on before they made a break for it, but one of them happened to move past a window and was seen by a zombie. The Z pounded on the doors and windows so loudly it attracted the attention of every other zombie for a mile and the family was truly in trouble.

  “What’s going on?” the father asked me nervously. He was slightly built, but had intelligent eyes, which probably explained why he and his family were alive. His brow was creased with worry and he kept looking at his two children, a boy and a girl, both under seven years old.

  I played it straight. “The rain is keeping the zombies from figuring out where we are right now and I’m going to use that to our advantage. We can’t all break out of here because they’d be all over us in a second. But I can redu
ce the odds some; use the rain to my advantage.”

  The woman, a short, mousy-looking specimen, looked sharply at me. “You mean to go out there?”

  I nodded. “Don’t see much choice. As soon as the rain ends, their senses will be in high gear. They know we’re around, but they aren’t sure where.”

  “What do you plan on doing?” the man asked, reaching out and holding his son’s hand. His son, Evan, hadn’t said a word since meeting me. His father had mentioned something about Evan seeing his friend’s family turn and go on a rampage, but I didn’t need details. No one escaped unscathed from the Upheaval. No one.

  “I’m going to arm myself with whatever I can and head out there, killing as many as I can. Hopefully I can do it without being swarmed,” I said, looked around to see what I could use for weapons. The store had been fairly looted, but some things would serve.

  “What if you are?” the woman asked, gently rocking her one year old baby girl. It was the baby that had coughed earlier. I was pretty sure the baby was sick, possibly fever, but I had nothing to help her with.

  “I’ll lead them away and you all can make a break for it. Behind this building is an alley, which if you take north, will put you on the edge of town. Head out across country and you should make it.” I stood up and stretched my legs.

  The man looked at me, then stood up. He offered his hand and I took it. “Good luck,” he said.

  “You too, if it comes to that,” I replied.

  “You could have left us to die,” woman said suddenly. “Why did you help us?”

  I considered that for a moment as I hunted among the shelves for usable weapons. I placed several hammers in my belt, some flat-bladed screwdrivers in my pockets and tucked a full-sized pickaxe handle within easy reach in my backpack. Every hardware store we hit we found hammers and screwdrivers. Made sense. What household didn’t have a hammer? In another life, I owned three. I found a hunter’s hat in the racks and put that on. With its two-inch brim, the rain should stay out of my eyes.